“No,” I say firmly and cross my arms over my chest.
“No?” he questions surprised by the word.
I lean over and speak as clearly as I can. “I’m. Not. Leaving.”
He walks over to my bag and grabs it by the handles. He tosses it into the hallway. “Still not leaving,” I say, lifting my chin. I’m gonna stand my ground and fight for you.
“Goddammit, Missy,” he shouts. He then spins around and picks up a picture that I had framed of us sleeping. The same one of him and me that Parker had put on his Facebook. He throws it to the floor, and it shatters into a million pieces.
I uncross my arms and walk over to his dresser. I take the lamp and shove it off of the dresser. It breaks as well. “You wanna break shit?” I say surprising myself at how bitchy I actually sound. “Then let’s break shit.”
I walk over to his tall dresser and he comes up behind me wrapping his arm around me, lifting me up off of the ground. I kick my legs as he tosses me effortlessly onto the bed and climbs on top of me, pinning me down. “What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts, looking down at me.
“Being like you,” I shout in his face. “Breaking shit!” I take in a deep breath. “You wanna break me, Tate?” I whispers harshly. He’s already done it before and all it did was make me stronger. I’ll come back fighting for him. It’s no longer about what I want or what I feel for him. It’s about what I can show him. It’s what I know I can make him feel about himself. Love. “Do it,” I growl. I can feel the heat radiating off of him as he lies on top of me. “That’s the only way I’ll leave,” I admit without shame. “Kick me out.”
He looks down at me and his hands tighten on my arms as he holds me down. I shout, “Fucking get it over with…” But he drops his head and his lips catch mine in a deep kiss. I fist my hands down by my head as his lips and tongue press my head back down into the bed.
I open my mouth for him wanting him to take it. He needs to feel the hate. He needs to feel the rage. Tate is the type of man who thrives off of that. That’s how he’s survived for so long. He doesn’t understand any other way. And I’m coming to understand that. I’m gonna push him every chance I get.
He pulls away, and I take in a deep breath. He jumps up off the bed and yanks me up by my arm. I lift my arms as he pulls my shirt up and over my head. I go to work on the buttons of his jeans and shove them down to his ankles once I get them undone. He unfastens mine just as quickly before he grabs my legs and pulls me up as I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
I cry out when he shoves my back against the far wall. He reaches between our bodies and pulls my panties to the side. It only takes him a second to feel how wet I am for him. How much I want him to take me.
I’m like the gasoline to his fire. He wants to extinguish his flames but I want them to burn brighter. I want the world to see what he does to me. And I want to show the world that without me he would burn out.
A man like Tate deserves to be seen. He deserves to be heard. He has spent his entire life having to hide who he truly is. I want him to burn so brightly that even the sun bows down to him.
I throw my head back against the wall and whimper when I feel the head of him start to slide in my entrance. Will it always feel this good? Will it always feel like the first time with him? That burning sensation that makes your toes curl and your spine tingle? I gasp and then whimper when he slowly pulls back.
“Fuck,” he hisses as he pushes forward once again—giving me a little more of him every time. He presses my back into the wall and I run my nails down the back of his shirt as I feel every inch of him inside of me. “Is this what you want?” he hisses as he pulls back and slams into me. “Want me to break you, Missy?” he growls.
If this is what being broken feels like then I would gladly let him do it anytime he wants. I take in a deep breath as he pulls back and enters me again, roughly this time.
“Say it,” he demands.
“Yes.” I try to shout, but it comes out as a plea. It’s hard to breathe, he’s pressing on my chest and my back is shoved against the wall.
He pauses and looks down at me. His dark blue eyes are still hard and his lips are thinned. “You would allow me to break you?” His face in expressionless, but I can see the glint in his eyes. He wants that chance. He wants to feel that power. What man wouldn’t?
“You can’t break what’s already been broken,” I say honestly.
He gives me a cocky smile and pulls away from the wall suddenly. I drop to my feet as he pushes me away. As I go to take a step back with wobbly legs, he grabs my hand and pulls me forward. He spins me around and places his hand on the center of my back. He shoves me forward and my knees hit the bed before the top of my body falls onto the bed.
I let out a breath as I feel his hard bare chest lean over my back. He pulls the hair off of my shoulder and the side of face. He takes it, wrapping it around his fist and pulls it back. I groan as my neck raises to an uncomfortable position. “You don’t know what broken is, sweetheart.” His words are roughly spoken against my ear and they send a chill down my spine. “But I would be more than happy to show you...”
He pulls back and rips my panties off, then I feel him spread my legs wider with his foot. I whimper as my hips scream from how far he spreads them apart as I lie half on-half off the bed.
My back stiffens and my heart beats wildly when he enters me in one fast movement. I cry out as my body stings from the stretch. And then I gasp when I realize he’s not wearing a condom. And I couldn’t really care less. The feel of him without one is unbelievable.
I place my hands by my head and push myself up as I fist my hands in the comforter. I take in a deep breath as he pulls out and slams into me again. I go up on my tiptoes and take in a deep breath. As he does it again I push myself up with my arms even more, stretching them all the way and allowing the pressure off of my neck since he still it has my head pulled back by my hair.
He lets go of my hair and then his body falls on top of mine, crushing my arms between myself and the bed. His now free hand comes up under my neck and he grabs a hold of it. I try taking a deep breath, but he tightens his grip.
I can feel myself getting wetter for him as he slows down to an achingly slow pace.
“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispers harshly before he gives my shoulder a soft kiss.
Please. I silently beg for him to go faster. I clench myself around him, trying to make him need it as much as I do.
He growls before I feel his teeth bite into my shoulder and my body breaks out in goosebumps. His hand tightens a little more around my neck.
The slowness is making me need it more. Harder. Faster. And he knows it. I try to move—push against him, letting him know I need more—but he has me pinned down. His front lying on top of my back and my arms are starting to go numb from the pressure being tucked underneath me.
I swallow hard as he demands in my ear, “Lift your hips.” I lift them as much as his body will allow me and I feel his free hand slide between my hip and the bed. His fingers find their way to my clit, and I whimper as he starts to rub it.
“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he whispers against my neck before I feel his tongue lick up to my ear. He takes it into his mouth and sucks on it, nibbling here and there. “So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs. “Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” His hand tightens on my throat and I take in a small breath. “Like it when I own your body?” he demands, and I nod my head the best that I can.
His hand loosens on my throat, and I allow my head to fall to the comforter as I pant. He rubs his thumb in a circular motion and I close my eyes. I feel it starting the build-up. I start to pant as he pulls back and grabs a hold of my hips. His fingers dig into them as he holds me in place. He picks up his pace and I moan, digging my fingernails into the comforter once again as the sensation builds.
“Tate…” My voice rises and he moves faster.
I gasp for breath as he sho
ves my hips and legs into the side of the bed.
The room is filled with our heavy breathing and the sound of his body hitting mine as he pounds into me from behind.
I cry out over and over as he takes his frustration out on my body. Treating it as if it can take away his anger. His pain.
I close my eyes and scream his name as my body comes undone around him.
I feel him grunt before he stiffens, finding his own release.
I lie there half on-half off the bed, gasping for breath, when he picks me up and lays me on the bed as my body shakes.
He lies down beside me and pulls me into his chest. He then leans down and
kisses my hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Did I hurt you?” he asks as he places his hand over my stomach.
I shake my head because that’s all I can do at the moment. I try to push my body further into his, shielding my face into his chest but he pulls back and gently grabs a hold of my chin and makes me look up at him. “Do you wanna leave?”
I can’t help but smile at his words. No matter how hard he is, he still worries. “No,” I respond.
He frowns. “Why would want to stay after that?”
I prop myself up on elbow and look down at him. “I pushed you, Tate. I wanted to push you,” I say, and his frown deepens.
“You want me to hurt you?” He softly touches my neck where his hand was around it.
I sigh. “You didn’t hurt me.” It turned me on. “You wanted a chance,” I remind him. “Well, here’s your chance.”
“Chance…?”
“Here it is, Tate.” I lift my head off of the bed, placing my lips inches from his. “You like the fight. I’m giving you the chance to fight. I dare you to fight for something that is worth it. I dare you to fight for yourself.” I reach up and cup his face. “Because you are worth it. You deserve to be happy.” I breathe heavily as he just stares at me. “That man has had a hold of you for as long as you can remember. Don’t you get it?” I ask softening my voice hoping that my mentioning Jonathan doesn’t make him mad again. “He still does. He’s still winning. He thinks you’re weak. Prove him wrong. Show him that you’re strong and that he can’t hurt you anymore.” This isn’t the post sex talk I planned on having with him, but he needs to know it as much as he needs to release the rage.
When I’m about to give up, he lifts his hand and places it on my face, his expression softening. “Don’t you see?” he asks softly. “You’re my weakness, Missy.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and give him a small smile. “And you’re mine. So let’s be strong together.”
He places his hand on my chest and runs it up and around my neck. He leans down and gently kisses my neck. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
“Yes, you do,” I say as he leans down and plants a kiss on my lips. “You deserve love, Tate.” I say after pulling away and no one could love him as much as I do.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TATE
I sit on my back porch drinking Crown right out of the bottle thinking about what Missy and I did hours ago. I fucked her—with no condom. I shouldn’t be terrified, she’s now on birth control and I know the doctor said that it would be hard for her to get pregnant with the fibroids, but still. I shouldn’t have taken that chance. But it felt so fucking good.
I sigh when I hear the back screen door open and shut.
“Where’s Missy?” Parker asks as he comes to sit down beside me.
“Asleep.”
“So you’re still together?”
“Yes.” I had never been more surprised in my life, and that’s saying a lot. She’s so tiny yet tonight she had the fight of someone three times her size. She stood up to me and showed me what fighting for something really meant.
“Well shit!” he mumbles to himself.
“What?”
“I lost the bet.”
“Bet?” I question, lifting the bottle back to my lips. Doesn’t surprise me that the idiot bet on my relationship with Missy. He and the guys bet on everything.
“Yep,” he says defeated. “I bet a hundred dollars that you would break her heart within two weeks.”
Well, it’s not over yet. I could still break her heart. Missy has a heart of gold, and she wants to fix me. I want to believe that she can, but I have too many sharp edges. Sooner or later, she will end up getting cut.
“So, now what?” Parker says reminding me he is here. “Gonna drink away your feelings and hunt down Jonathan like a madman?” He looks down to the Crown in my hand.
“That’s my plan.” Numbness and rage. I crave it.
He smiles. “Sounds like a plan I wanna be involved with.”
I nod and lean over, handing him the bottle, and he greedily takes a drink. “Are you afraid he will go after Missy?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t think he wants her.” He wants my mother. He wants my mother to believe that I’m in danger. That’s the only reason for him sending her that letter. He’s praying that her love for me will bring her back here. It won’t work.
“Will you tell me one thing?” Parker asks, relaxing back in his chair.
I look over to him and give him my best no look, but he asks anyway. “Why do you push away the ones who love you?”
“Stop, Parker,” I warn.
“I just really wanna know,” he continues.
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” I say standing.
I go to walk inside and he stands. “I spoke to my brother.”
His words make me stop. I turn around to face him.
“He thinks you’re going to hurt her.”
“And?” I growl.
He looks me in the eyes and responds casually. “And I think he’s right.”
I release a sigh. “What do you want me to do? Want me to walk away from her? Want me to give your little brother a chance with her?” I ask shaking my head. He had his chance, and I won’t give her up. Not now.
“No,” he says with a smirk. “I want you to prove us wrong and show us all that you can love.”
I run a hand over my face. “I don’t do love, Parker. I destroy.” That’s where my problem lies.
He tilts his head to the side. “Not many things can be destroyed, Tate. Almost anything can be salvaged if you try hard enough.”
“Why are we having this conversation?” I ask myself aloud.
“Because I know you have a heart, and I know you love her,” he says matter-of-fact.
“Why do people confuse sex with love?” I question truly confused.
He laughs. “I have plenty of sex and do not confuse it with love,” he says matter-of-fact.
“You just did with me and Missy.”
He smiles. “You loved her before you fucked her in Vegas.”
I release a long sigh. “Why are you here Parker? Take my bike and go get some ass,” I state before I turn around and walk inside the house. I make my way back to my bedroom and lie down beside her.
She sleeps soundly, curled up in a ball. I look over to the dresser. To the broken picture frame that she placed back up there. I had shattered the glass out of it but the actual frame and picture are still intact. We are lying there on the couch cuddling while we sleep and I’ve never seen my face so relaxed. Her front is tucked into me and I have my arm around her holding her to me. I’m amazed we didn’t fall off.
My eyes move to the pill bottle that stands next to it. It’s her pain pills for her fibroids. I had told her that we don’t have a future. And at that second I actually believed it. Can we have one? I’m not sure. She thinks I’m getting better. But she has to see how my temper flares and how I push everything away. She stood her ground today but how long will she continue to do that? When will she realize that I’m not worth fighting for?
I look down at her and push blond hair away from her face. When I told her I would kill for her, she called me her savior. I want to be that for her. I want to save her but my outburst today proves
that I still need to save myself first.
I pull her into me. “Tate?” she whispers her eyes still closed.
“Shh,” I say softly giving her a kiss on her cheek.
“I love you,” she whispers as she pushes her body closer into mine.
After what she did today—staying and not walking out like I told her to. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Someone to fight for me. And that’s exactly what she’s doing. That statement is starting to mean more and more to me.
MISSY
I am in the guys’ kitchen making myself a pot of coffee when my cell rings.
“Hello?” I ask when I answer a number I don’t know.
“Missy. Missy, this is Laura, Tate’s mother. I hope you don’t mind me calling this early. I got your number from Sam,” she says. “Missy, is Tate with you? I’ve been trying to call him, and he won’t answer.” I feel sorry for her. She pushed Tate away as a child because she was trying to protect him. Protect him from a man that she loved or feared. Now he pushes her away because he blames her.
“No, he’s not,” I say softly in case he’s in the house somewhere. Last I saw him, he was taking out the trash.
“I’m about to board a plane. I arrive at six thirty this evening your time. Will you pick me up?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” What the hell is she coming in for?
“Thanks so much.” She ends the call.
I look down at my phone, confused, before I place it on the countertop and go back to my coffee.
“Who were you talking to?” Tate asks and I jump in surprise.
“Oh.” I give a little nervous laugh. “That was Sam,” I say quickly. Laura had said that she had got my number from her so I’m gonna use her as my alibi.
“What did she want?” he asks coming over to me.
“She wanted to see what I was up to tonight.” I turn around and offer him a cup of coffee. He shakes his head with a scowl on his face before he turns and goes to the fridge. I know he hates coffee. All I ever see him drink is beer, Crown, and water.
“Why? She want to do something?” he asks while unscrewing the cap off.
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